


eventually... you just move on

by WonderTwinC



Series: NanoWrimo Prompts 2017 [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for S2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12682371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: Joyce/Hopper. Stranger Things S2 spoilers. Post S2.





	eventually... you just move on

The phone was ringing.

Jim rolled over with a quiet groan and blindly felt for his watch on the cluttered nightstand. Something fell to the floor with a dull thump as his fingers found the strap of his watch. It was hard to see in the dark, only the faintest bit of light managed to come through the curtains, but he pulled the watch close to his face and stared until he could make out the time.

3:20am.

His brow furrowed, worry quickly replacing exhaustion as he pushed himself up. The night air was cold and he grimaced when his bare feet hit the frozen wooden floor. The phone was still ringing as he made his way through the dark of his room and toward the kitchen. In the other room he heard Eleven shift, the bed creaking beneath her small frame, but nothing else followed.

He grabbed the phone before it could wake her.

"Hopper," he answered, pressing the cool plastic of the phone to his ear.

There was silence first and then uneven breathing. Panicked. Familiar. He felt his stomach drop for a long, painful moment.

"Joyce? What's wrong? Is it W-"

"No, no-" her voice shook. He imagined she was trembling as she stood near the phone - forehead resting against the wall.

Cold.

Alone.

"I just -" she cleared her throat. Hesitating. Jim could hear the plastic of the phone strain under her grip as she drew in a deep breath and let it go in an attempt to gather herself. "I couldn't sleep," she whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear.

He wondered if it was another nightmare about Bob or a flashback of her son slipping through her grasp not just once, but twice. The idea of her hurting made his chest ache. A sharp, painful squeeze that he'd experienced more than once over the last year and a half.

Jim rubbed at his face, scrubbing away the feeling of tired that seemed to cling to his skin. He exhaled softly. "Wanna talk about it?"

He could hear her fidgeting on the other end of the line. "... does it ever go away?" she asked. She didn't have to elaborate for him to understand.

He thought of his daughter - of his ex-wife. He thought of all the mornings he'd woken up in anger and pain. He thought about how he'd dived into the bottle. How he'd spent days and weeks in a drunken stupor, unwilling to eat or shower or feel the sunlight on his face.

Jim thought of all that... and then he thought of sitting in the Byers' kitchen sharing a cigarette with Joyce; the wonder of Eleven's tentative smile.

Compromise. 

_ Half happy. _

"No," he answered softly, "but eventually... you just move on. You never forget and it never stops hurting, but one day you wake up and it's... easier. Something you can manage."

"I don't know what to do until then," she admitted softly. The line crackled, distorting her voice, but he could still hear the sadness. The raw pain that came with waking up in the middle of the night after a nightmare had stripped you bare in your sleep. "I don't know-"

"Sshh, I've got you," Jim murmured softly, squeezing the phone until his hand ached. He closed his eyes. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."


End file.
